


The Dark Lord's Birthday

by whitedandelions



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday, Crack, Death Eaters, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 09:44:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11145891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitedandelions/pseuds/whitedandelions
Summary: It’s the Dark Lord’s birthday, and his Death Eaters scramble to find him the best present.  But of course, the best present is Harry Potter, tied up and offered up as tribute to celebrate the birth of the Darkest wizard alive.





	The Dark Lord's Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ObsidianPen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianPen/gifts).



> This is dedicated to ObsidianPen’s birthday (June 7). She’s one of my favorite people in the world, and not just because everything she writes is gold (if you hadn’t read Hauntingly…please do yourself a favor and check it out because it literally changes peoples’ lives), but because she is also our very own Dark Lord. This fic is written with us as her Death Eaters (I’m Lucius, because I’m fab as hell and all these lovely people are on the end of my leashes, Draco is Mel, who is Pen’s bottom bitch as her beta, Yaxley is Kyri, whose knowledge of fics in fandoms still astounds me, Barty Jr. is Chelle, whose loyalty knows no bounds, Bellatrix is Pepa, because Pepa’s cool, savage, wonderful, and so freaking amazing because she’s also had Hauntingly’s baby so, Rabastan is Janet, because she’s sinsters with Chelle and Pepaand she’s just as knowledgeable to come up with said evil plans, and POOR POOR eveiss, I’m soo sorry you’re snape, to make up for it, we made it so snape doesn’t even like himself it’s okay, and hey I tried to make him a Gryffindor too, ilu, pls don’t be mad).
> 
> Anyway, please go send some love to Pen, she’s wonderful, amazing, and never ceases to make me smile

Lucius likes to wake up to his wife’s smile, with the sun streaming in and the smell of tea in the room.  He likes to wake up, drink said tea, and relax at the dining table while reading the Daily Prophet.  And when his son is home from Hogwarts, and can join them, those are the best mornings.

Unfortunately, his morning does not go as he would have liked.

Because his Lord’s snake is there, and she’s hissing at him, but he’s not the Dark Lord and neither is he Harry Potter, so he just stares helplessly at her.

Narcissa is looking at him over the rim of her cup, and when he looks back at Nagini, he knows he needs to get this solved quickly before Narcissa gets annoyed that there’s a snake in their dining room.  The last thing he needs is a resentful wife.

He transfigures a sugar cube into a small rodent, letting it go run through the kitchen in hopes it'll appease the snake.

Nagini looks at him, and snaps her jaws.  She does not chase the rodent.  (He hopes that the rodent would have transformed back to a sugar cube before Narcissa finds it.)

"What do you want?” he asks, eventually, because Nagini’s smart enough and he hopes she can understand human speech.

She narrows her big eyes at him, and then her tail whips out, knocking over all the sugar into a pile on the floor.  Narcissa makes a wounded noise, but she knows better than to yell at the Dark Lord’s snake.

The sugar crumbles into small particles on the floor, and Nagini writes out a single word into the mess, taking her time with each letter to ensure that Lucius would understand.

And when he does, he just gapes at it, flabbergasted.

Nagini nods her head once, before slithering away the way she came.

“Lucius?” asks Narcissa, when the silence has stretched on.  “What did she want?”

He looks into his lovely wife’s eyes and he’s helpless, unsure of how to tell her what exactly the snake had written.  And how exactly that one word is going to take up the rest of their day.  And how absolutely mindblowing it is that the snake even _came_ to them for this.

“Malfoy?” comes a new voice, and when Lucius looks up, Barty Jr. is at the doorway.  He has a gleeful expression on, and he has a party hat on his head.  “Did you know it’s our Lord’s birthday today?”

“I know,” he says, and surprise colors Barty’s face.  “The snake beat you to it.”

“Nagini!?”  Barty’s voice is shrill and he frowns.  “I thought this was _my_ secret.  Bloody snake!”  He doesn’t stay to explain to the Malfoys, and instead turns to tear through the hallways, swearing loud enough that Lucius can hear him until the door swings shut.

“Our New Year’s party is tonight,” says Narcissa, slowly, and when he looks up, there’s dismay in his wife’s eyes.  She looks resigned, though, and Lucius knows he's lucky to have her.  His wife is smart; after all, even if they did mourn the loss of their regular New Year’s Party, an angry Dark Lord meant that there would be no new year coming.

And a party will be a sufficient enough gift.  The other Death Eaters will have to come up with their own tributes.

* * *

Yaxley pities Malfoy’s son. 

The Malfoy spawn was supposed to meet up with his friends an hour ago in Diagon Alley to celebrate the coming of the New Year, but minutes before he was to head out, the Dark Lord had caught him.

Now Malfoy was sitting despondently in his father’s study, going through the bills that Yaxley and the Dark Lord had drafted up for the Ministry.  

Yaxley rather enjoys it, truth be told; he used to be a tutor when he had been in school.  Helping Malfoy understand the legal terms isn’t the worst part of his job.  (The best though is using his vast knowledge to come up with sources that even the Dark Lord did not know of.)

Malfoy’s shaking when the Dark Lord looms over him.  “How is our writing coming along, young Malfoy?”

“I-i-it’s amazing,” squeaks Malfoy, and his eyes betray him as he darts down to look back at said writing.  The Dark Lord catches on, and then frowns.  Yaxley, curious, makes his way over and is able to conceal his snort when he realizes what’s wrong.

“I told you to be honest with me, Draco,” chides the Dark Lord, and when he places a hand on the young Malfoy, the wizard flinches in fear.  

“It’s still amazing,” protests Malfoy, and Yaxley takes the piece of paper, summoning a quill and crossing out the misspelled word.

Malfoy is intelligent.  He’s brilliant at correcting their bills, but still too terrified to actually do said corrections.  Which would make him useless if the Dark Lord hadn’t started using Legilimency on him.

Regardless, Yaxley is sure that the Dark Lord keeps Malfoy around just for amusement.  

* * *

 

Bellatrix is beautiful.  Mesmerizing and bloody brilliant in battle.  

But she shines here, when she’s plotting a way to get their Dark Lord the best present ever.  

Rabastan is glad every day that she had married his brother.  Now they’re more like siblings than anything else.

“Potter is at Hogwarts for the holidays,” she tells him in a rush, her arm linking with his as she leads him toward the outside where they’ll be past the apparation wards.  “I already owled Snape.”

He stares, “Snape won’t be happy.”

“When is he ever?” she responds, and then spins them both, apparating them directly to Snape’s quarters.

The professor is sitting in his chair when they arrive, nursing a glass of wine.  He sighs loudly when they appear, setting down his wine.  Bellatrix’s owl is on his shoulder, the letter still tied to its feet.

“Why even send an owl?” drawls Snape, and he presses on before Bellatrix can continue.  “Potter is out in the grounds.  Go do whatever you want.”

“Are you not coming to the party?” 

Snape’s eyes snap to Rabastan, “Is that Lucius’ idea of celebrating His birthday?”

“It’s a good idea,” defends Rabastan, loyally, and Snape stares at him.  

“Right,” says Snape, drawing out the word enough to show just how much he thought of Lucius’ idea, before picking up his wine glass again and drinking more of its contents.  

“He might be angry you’re missing,” ventures Rabastan, and Snape shrugs, the alcohol in his system giving him enough courage to disregard his Lord’s anger.

“I’ll deal with it,” said Snape.  “Now out.”

Rabastan knows Snape’s Head of Slytherin, but sometimes, like right now, he can see a bit of Gryffindor peek through.  Because it was only reckless courage that was allowing him to disregard the Dark Lord like _this_.

He would care more for Snape, really, but a cat crosses their path on their way outside, and Rabastan is promptly distracted.

* * *

 

Bellatrix bows in front of their Lord, and when she rises, there’s a breathtaking smile on her face.  

“Your present, my Lord,” she says, and Rabastan obediently floats the bound Potter further into the room.  She waves dramatically, and the invisibility Cloak flies, summoned by her nonverbal magic.  

Potter’s bound tightly, ropes around his midsection preventing him from moving off the chair.  His mouth is gagged, and his legs are tied together. And he’s glaring at the Dark Lord, not even sparing any looks for the Death Eaters gathered in front of their Lord.

There’s a collective sigh throughout the crowd as the Death Eaters see the bound Potter, and Rabastan preens, knowing that they, and they alone, had gotten their Dark Lord the best gift.  

Lucius looks like he has a migraine, and he stands, presumably to cut the gift-giving short, when the Dark Lord inclines his head at Bellatrix.

“You’ve done well, Bellatrix,” he says, and then locks eyes with Rabastan.  There’s a sliver of a smile on his face.  “Rabastan.”  Then he places both hands on Potter’s shoulders, and with a magical burst, disappears with his present.

“He’s not going to let us watch?” Bellatrix mourns when she’s close enough to talk quietly with Rabastan, and he laughs.

* * *

 “Should I leave you bound like this?” asks the Dark Lord, and Harry shivers at the sound of it.  “You still have clothes on, though,” muses Voldemort, and Harry arches his back when his lover runs a soothing hand down his back. 

He twists so he can glare at Voldemort, and Voldemort generously removes the gag covering his mouth.  

“They ruined my birthday gift,” Harry snarls, and Voldemort actually laughs at him.

“And what did you have planned, my little minx?”

He glares, not appreciating the snark, and struggles against the tight ropes to show just how much he didn’t appreciate being kidnapped by his lover’s henchmen.  “Maybe if you untie me, you’ll find out.”

“Now where will the fun be in that?  They already tied you up so nicely,” purrs Voldemort, “that all you need is a big bow to complete the picture.”

“Don’t you bloody dare,” he starts, and falls silent as Voldemort starts to transfigure the ropes.  The ropes become soft, silky, and pink ribbons that start to criss cross over Harry’s now bare body.  It ends with a bow in front of his chest, and Harry stares down at it with a frown.

“Now, you’re the _perfect_ present,” hisses Voldemort in parseltongue, and Harry, the fight in him diminished from the way Voldemort’s leering at him, obediently tilts his head up to accept a kiss from his love.

* * *

 

They’re in the study the day after the Dark Lord’s birthday, and absolutely no one knows what’s happened to Harry Potter.

And Bellatrix would care that her present is currently going unrewarded, but…

The Dark Lord is chewing on a pen.

And it’s taking all of her to not jump him right then and there.

He’s probably drafting another one of those important bills, and his eyes are bloodshot, signifying that he had probably worked all night on them.  There’s so many on the table, that she’s reminded again just how competent her Lord is.

“I’m pregnant,” she announces, and everything just stops.

“What,” says Snape, flatly.

“With twins,” she continues, patting her stomach and standing so she can be closer to their Lord.

Voldemort stares at her blankly, and he slowly removes the pen from his mouth. 

“Have you even had intercourse with him,” snarls Snape, and Voldemort raises a hand.

“Snape,” he warns, and he holds out a hand to her.

She takes it, preening at Snape’s flabbergasted look, and bends to press a kiss against her Lord’s hand.

“It’s those reports, my Lord,” she simpers, “They just…get me so hot.  They’re just written _so_ well.”

“I …” the Dark Lord pauses for a long second.  There’s a cough, and Bella can hear Draco’s whisper of, ‘He misspelled _iceberg_ eight times…EIGHT,’ and Yaxley’s calm shushing. 

Voldemort continues, “I understand, my Bella.  I hope your pregnancy treats you well.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” she says, and she obediently goes to sit back down, her arm still curled around her belly.

**Author's Note:**

> if this doesn't make any sense, i'm sorry. i'll follow it up with a smut oneshot soon ok, i'm sorry chelle, barty jr will have a bigger role next time
> 
> Pepa: Well i mean chelle barty could be helping harry get back to Hogwarts harry i need details do you really think the rest will be okay with a simple "yeah they kinda fucked' last time they wanted specific positions jeez


End file.
